


Neck Snap Go Brrrrr

by HDMI_Cable_Core



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Haha neck snap funny, I wrote this in like a day please, L'manburg's about to have it's second festival :), See this is supposed to be funny, Wdym Dream's in prison?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29431035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HDMI_Cable_Core/pseuds/HDMI_Cable_Core
Summary: Ranboo snaps Dream's neck.That's it. That's the fic.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 74





	Neck Snap Go Brrrrr

**Author's Note:**

  * For [80sarcaderat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/80sarcaderat/gifts).



> Can't believe it's Valentine's Day and I'm posting this shit

“You’re not real, you’re not real. You can’t be.” Ranboo shook his head as he paced back and forth from one end of the small panic room to the other. An unidentifiable purpled liquid seeped from the ceiling in a steady rhythm. _drip, drip, drip_

Not that Ranboo was paying enough attention to notice of course. He had more important things on his mind at that moment. “You’re not.. you can’t”

 _“Well, why not?”_ Dream’s voice echoed from somewhere within his mind. Every last syllable served as its own personalized attack on Ranboo’s already waning sanity. _“You can hear me can’t you?”_

“That doesn’t-” _That doesn’t make you real_ he wanted to say, but something stopped him.

 _“I mean.. if I’m not real, you must be talking to yourself then, right?”_ Ranboo stopped in the middle of the room, he.. didn’t know what he wanted to be true at this point. Neither option seemed particularly appealing. A suffocating silence settled over the room as Ranboo’s mouth moved silently. He didn’t know what he was trying to say, only that he was unable to say it. Eventually however, the voice (Dream?) seemed to take pity on him. A gentle chuckle mercifully broke the silence, and for just a moment Ranboo felt as if he could breathe again. _“Don’t worry Ranboo, I can.. assure you, that I’m the real deal”_

“How..?” Ranboo managed in a strained, breathless whisper. 

_“Well.. here I come now.”_ the (Dream’s?) voice seemed to fade slowly from his mind as the sentence left his nonexistent lips. Ranboo would have been relieved, if not for the footsteps immediately following the ominous farewell. He heard a block break behind him, and at an entirely inhuman speed turned to see who had managed to find the room he’d spent hours trying to hide.

“Dream?” Tears beaded in the corners of his eyes, and if he’d had eyelids he surely would’ve tried to blink them away. “What are you..” The man in the doorway took a step towards him, prompting Ranboo to press himself back against the wall the moment Dream crossed the threshold. This, in the end, turned out to be a mistake, as once he made contact with the back wall he found himself with plot-conveniently few places to run. Dream approached him slowly, not out of reverence or care, but as a predator would his prey, keeping a steady eye on the exit Ranboo desperately wanted to flee towards.

“Hello, Ranboo” Dream gave a mocking half wave in the enderman hybrid’s direction, approaching still until he was perhaps a foot away from the young man pressed against the wall.

“..Hi” He watched as Dream reached up towards the mask he always wore, as if going to take it off. But.. why would he take it off now? Regardless of however Improbable it may have been however, the mask left his face regardless. “You’re not real” Ranboo supplied finally, staring at the surprisingly normal looking man in front of him in a way he could only hope was defiant. Again, that maddeningly gentle chuckle filled his ears. Yet it felt real this time, tangible. It had a source he could pinpoint, a source he desperately wished wasn’t staring up at him with unnerving stormy green eyes. 

“Are you sure about that, Ranboo?” Dream asked, an amused smirk dancing across his lips. “Why don’t you test that theory?”

Ranboo stared down at the man in front of him. It was all he could do really, it wasn’t as if he had eyelids to close. “I don’t…” Dream said nothing, simply reaching out his free hand for him to grasp. The enderman hybrid shook his head and tried to press further back against the wall. Dream thankfully made no move to reach any further, but he also made absolutely no moves to leave his personal space anytime within the near future. Instead he waited patiently, his mouth gradually curling upwards as the minutes crawled painfully by. Until eventually his mouth mimicked the classic smile still printed on the chipped mask in his hand.

His mind raced, a panicked frenzy contrasting the unsettlingly calm demeanor of the man in front of him. What was he meant to do now? Where was he meant to go? All he had to do was make contact with Dream, right? His hand would pass through, it had to. It was thought that both comforted and terrified him. What did it mean if his hand touched Dream’s, that he was real? That he had unprecedented access to his mind? It was a scenario he wanted to avoid if possible. But what if his hand did pass through? What then? Did that mean he was crazy? That he was hearing voices? And if the voices were in fact himself then who’s to say what they were saying wasn’t true? What if.. the community house..

He stood there, a familiar feeling of indecision paralyzing all but his eyes. (And, hopefully, his lungs.) “What do you want from me?” His voice cracked and each word scratched his throat on it’s way into the open air. At the very least however, it broke the silence. 

“Well, right now..” he let his hand drop to his side, and for a moment Ranboo thought he might step away. Instead however he took a half step closer, and it was all he could do not to yelp as suddenly Dream’s nose was mere inches from his chest. “I want you to understand I’m real, Ranboo.” He let the mask fall from his hand, and it clattered to the obsidian floor below. He tilted his head upwards to look him in the eyes, and despite the young man’s obvious height advantage his breathing stopped. He still had yet to touch him, seemingly determined to have Ranboo make the first move.

The decision clawed at his mind, taking the place of the previously present ‘mysterious voice’. He almost hoped for Dream to make some sort of move, if only for the decision to be taken out of his hands. Instead he remained motionless, as still as Ranboo himself but for entirely different reasons. At long last, despite the two equally unappealing realities potentially standing before him, he decided that whatever safety he gained from not knowing was could not quell his rising panic stemming from the uncertainty of it all. He had to know, he had to. Even if he knew he’d hate any answer he found.

Hesitantly, he raised his hand. He didn’t want to touch Dream’s skin if he could help it, and so raised his hand higher until it hovered above the shorter man’s head. Dream looked confused, if not amused. He glanced up at Ranboo’s hand and gave a small, expectant nod. It took far more willpower than Ranboo would ever care to admit, but he lowered his hand ever so slowly, until his fingers brushed against Dream’s hair.

The newly unmasked man made no comment as Ranboo’s hand settled atop his surprisingly soft and surprisingly _tangible_ hair. “...No.” His breath picked up, slowly gaining speed at the not unexpected but still unwelcome implications of this discovery. “..You’re… you’re real” in his panic, his hand tightened around Dream’s hair, a grip certainly tight enough to be painful, yet he gave no indication of any physical discomfort. Ranboo shook, he was a coiled spring unable to release, still pinned rather pathetically against the wall. He nearly forgot his circumstances as a panicked frenzy of increasingly outlandish worst case scenarios filled even the calmest corners of his mind. Oh God oh God oh God. This couldn’t be real- it couldn’t be. His death grip on Dream’s hair only tightened with each new thought, as if this homeless man’s head was his new stress ball. 

Perhaps, someday, he may have simply let go. Or if it had been necessary Dream could have asked someone to cut the hair tying him to the enderman hybrid’s hold. He never got the chance however, as in that moment he made the last and most fatal mistake of his unnaturally long life. With evidently damning irreverence for the distress of the abnormally strong enderman hybrid before him, he grabbed Ranboo’s wrist. While of course, to his credit, this did snap Ranboo out of his frenzied trance, this was not the only thing to snap.

With his unconscious death grip on Dream’s hair still firmly in place, Ranboo jerked at the contact of the homeless man’s skin on his. He violently pulled his arm back down to his side, not remembering to let go of his hair until it was far too late. A loud crack followed by a nauseatingly moist tearing sound filled the room, and by the time Ranboo had the faintest notion of what was happening, a body had fallen to the floor.

A body without a head.

Ranboo blinked. Or would have, if he had eyelids. He stared at the decapitated body that lay crumpled on the floor. Unsurprisingly, blood began to flow freely from the wound, cascading across the floor and towards the enderman hybrid's shoes. He shuddered, and stepped carefully over the corpse so that he could resume his pacing on the other side of the room. It wasn't until he reached the aforementioned other side of the room, that his brain caught up enough with current events to tell him that he was, in fact, still clutching Dream's head in his hand. 

Again, another non-existent blink, as he slowly raised the head to eye level. It's mouth was still open, as if Dream had been ready to make some quip about Ranboo thinking he was a dog. His gaze then shifted to the eyes, upsettingly familiar stormy green eyes. He wanted to let go, to let the head drop to the floor or to chuck it over by the rest of the homeless man's body. Yet despite his efforts to tell his hand to let go his fist remained stubbornly closed.

Instead, he brought the head close to his chest as he would a grass block and turned his head towards the ceiling. Unable to close his eyes for aforementioned reasons, staring at something black for long periods of time was about the best he could do. He wasn't entirely sure why his hand refused to let go of the head, but for now he couldn't find it in himself to complain. At the very least it was real, grounding. He sighed and unconsciously began to thread the fingers of his free hand through Dream's hair. 

Despite his initial thoughts of it being soft (which, to be fair, it was) the longer he touched it, he noticed it was exceedingly greasy, as if Dream hadn't showered in a good long while. Which he supposed made sense, as no home also meant no shower. The steady rhythm of blood droplets hitting the floor should've bothered him, but instead it seemed to blend in with the consistent dripping noises from the crying obsidian.

He stopped finally, as one of the purple drops from the ceiling nearly hit him in the eyes. As he looked down, he noticed he was now considerably closer to the corpse than he would've liked. He looked down further still, at the small puddle of blood he'd apparently stepped in. “This is a mess…” Ranboo muttered quietly to himself. He glanced down at the head still sitting snugly in his hands, as if looking to it for answers. “What are we gonna do about this..?” 

Dream's lifeless head provided unsurprisingly few answers, and so after far too much deliberation he managed to set the head down in the corner after quite literally prying it from his own hand. “Okay… okay. This is fine” perhaps later he'd throw the head into a nearby river, but for now it was all he could do to get it out of his hand. His suit was stained, he knew it was, it had to be. He didn't look to find out though, he'd deal with that later. “This is fine” he told himself yet again “We're going to be fine.”

The body, as grotesque as it was, was the least of Ranboo's concerns. What he really has to worry about was explaining to the script writer how he'd managed to kill the main antagonist a whole season early. And by accident no less. The notification _Dream's neck was snapped by Ranboo_ still sat stubbornly at the bottom corner of his vision, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Wilbur came down to tell at him.

He sighed and sat on the floor next to Dream's head, it wasn't worth the effort anyways. Someone else would clean up the body, for now he was tired. He leaned back against the wall and looked again at the head sitting next to him. Would Dream be mad? Honestly he doubted it. If he knew him at all he'd probably still be wheezing whenever Ranboo saw him next. 

He shook his head in a half hearted attempt to clear it before laying down on the cold obsidian floor. He'd probably be fine, his role as the increasingly relevant deuteragonist would almost certainly keep him from getting fired. And if not… well.

He didn't particularly want to think about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Red will you pretty please be my valentine


End file.
